Strange, Yet Soothing
by Wynn
Summary: A death during battle brings Sif to New York and Avengers Tower. Steve helps her deal with tea and awkward conversation. A short sweet and sorrowful fic.


AN: A gift fic for bookwork213. :D

Strange, Yet Soothing

By: Wynn

_A cup of tea is a cup of peace: Soshitsu Sen XV_

When Thor returned to Earth, he and Jane (and Darcy sans Intern) eventually migrated to New York and the Tower, joining the rest of the Avenger menagerie that Tony had collected there. Steve welcomed the addition. He respected Natasha and Clint, enjoyed the warm cup of tea he shared each morning with Bruce, and even grew fond of Tony and his indecipherable quips and allusions, but with Thor, Steve found similarities that he lacked with the others, an analogous worldview, a comparable mystification with modern life, and the shared loss of the men they both called brothers. Thor talked of Loki often, Steve the only one who would listen, the rest of them, save Darcy, hindered by their own grudges with the former God of Mischief. Talking about Loki led, of course, to talking about Asgard, and talking about Asgard led to talking about the Warriors, and talking about the Warriors led to talking about Sif, about her courage and pride, her spirit and warmth, and after a while, Steve wondered if you could fall in love with a woman that you'd never even met.

...

Three months after Thor arrived, the clouds swirled and the sky parted above the Tower. Jarvis sounded the alarm, and the team, sans Bruce, traveling the world again to soothe his recurrent demons, raced to the top. As a result, Steve saw the woman who walked out of the sky, her gait strong and her hair dark and her eyes heavy with sorrow.

It was then he realized that, yes, you could fall in love with a woman that you'd never even met because, as strange and improbable and fantastical as the thought might be, he was with her.

...

The team gathered in the penthouse around Sif and listened to her tale. A month after Thor left, the Frost Giants attacked, spurred on by the assault on Asgard by the Dark Elves and their own need for vengeance at the death of their king and the near destruction of their world by the Bifrost. Sif fought alongside the Warriors, leading the charge at the behest of the King. She turned to slay a foe that rushed her, ice mace raised and ready to strike. She hadn't even seen the one sneaking up behind her until Hogun leapt past, his swords held high.

By the time she had slain her foe and turned around, it was too late. The Frost Giant was dead, but so was Hogun, pierced through the chest by his adversary in a last strike before death.

Her throat constricted then and she looked away. Steve recognized the press of guilt upon her, the weight of responsibility and loss in her eyes. He'd seen it enough in his own reflection after Bucky had fallen and been lost.

After another moment, Sif cleared her throat and continued, her eyes on Thor. "The King… He suggested I venture here. He spoke of how this realm had welcomed you and aided you, and he thought that I, too, would benefit." She paused then. Her gaze shifted from Thor to Steve, and the unexpected look kicked him in the gut and snatched his breath. "May I stay?"

"Yes," Steve croaked. He coughed as the team turned to look at him, particularly Tony, who quirked a brow. Steve shrugged and hoped his face looked calm. "It's not like you don't have the space."

"True," Tony admitted, still looking at Steve. Then he glanced at Sif, and Steve held his breath, hoping, hoping, but the grin that spelled doom for him broke out across on Tony's face. "Of course you can stay," he said, moving toward Sif. "Any friend of Thor's is a friend of ours. Especially for Steve."

Steve closed his eyes and tried not to sigh.

...

Doom did not come that day, or that night, the dinner for Sif relaxed and easygoing. Steve watched as Thor introduced Sif to each of the Avengers. He felt Tony watching him, Natasha too, as his introduction came; he raised his hand and gave a small wave before escaping to the kitchen to help Clint clean.

The next morning, he shuffled down to the kitchen for his now customary cup of tea, despite Bruce's absence. The brew soothed him; it settled his mind, often restless from his dreams, for the upcoming day. He moved through the preparations with ease, this, thankfully, not complicated by modernity and unnecessary technology as so many other things were. Just a mug, some hot water, a bag of tea, and Steve.

"May I join you?"

The question startled Steve, unused to anyone save Bruce being up at so early an hour. He glanced up and locked eyes with Sif, who stood a few feet before the kitchen counter. Her hair was down, gleaming in the early morning sun that streamed in through the windows. Dark circles ringed her eyes. She wore clothes from Earth, pajama pants from Pepper and a t-shirt from Natasha; Darcy planned on taking her out later that day to buy her more, using a portion of the stipend provided to Thor by Tony for his help with Jane's research.

Steve nodded his response. Sif moved forward and claimed the stool on the opposite side of the counter. As she sat down, Steve stood and grabbed a second mug from the cabinet to his right. "Do you like tea?" he asked.

Sif looked at the mug. "I do not know. I have never had tea. But I will have some if you are."

Nodding again, Steve prepared a second mug. He had acquired a taste for tea from Jacques in the war, tea sometimes easier to obtain than coffee. Bruce had expanded his love, introducing him to a variety of kinds and flavors that he discovered during his travels. As he poured the still hot water, Steve felt Sif watching him, her gaze keen and curious despite her obvious sleeplessness. He focused on the mug, aware of the odd way that his hair stuck up and his ratty, wrinkled shirt. He reached for the box of tea bags and plunked one in before setting the mug before Sif.

"Just let it sit a few minutes and then it'll be done."

"Thank you."

She wrapped her hands around the mug as Steve reclaimed his stool. They sat in silence, Steve searching his brain for something to say that wasn't strange or stupid or awkward, recalling his previous disastrous attempts to speak to a woman he favored. After a moment, he settled on something innocuous, something direct and straightforward, something necessary and polite, something good and okay and hopefully not at all dumb.

"Hi."

At his greeting, her eyes met his, and Steve could see the beginnings of a smile on her face. "Hello."

She had a beauty mark beneath her right eye and a small scar near her temple. He waited for her to continue the conversation, hoping his greeting would prompt her, but she said nothing more and silence settled between them again. He looked out of the window and then back at her; he found her still staring at him and shifted on his stool. As he lifted his mug once more, her smile widened.

"Do I discomfit you, Captain?"

"What? No, no, no. No."

Sif arched a brow.

Steve coughed and took another drink. He stared down at his tea, wondering when, if ever, he would stop being an idiot around women. He thought he had made progress. He talked to Pepper fine, even Natasha too, finding her to be a surprisingly good listener when memories from the war became too heavy. With Jane, he rarely needed to talk, only listen as she related her latest theory. He could even banter with Darcy now, her humor as brash and raw as Bucky's. But the only thoughts that entered his head when he looked at Sif again were 'Gosh, your hair sure does look pretty' or 'I understand your sorrows because my best friend fell from a train and died trying to help me fight a war, and the responsibility and guilt are sometimes more than I can bear,' but neither seemed like good conversation starters. He knew he had to say something though. To remain silent would be rude, and Steve didn't want to be rude, he _wanted_ to talk to Sif, but he _couldn't_, so, of course, that was just what he said.

"I'm sorry. For the awkwardness. Because you're right. You do. Discomfit me. But only a little. And not in a bad way," he added in quickly, seeing the expression on her face. "Thor, ah, told me about you. Before you came." Steve paused then, remembering some of the stories that Thor told of her. Meeting her eyes again, he smiled. "You have quite the reputation."

"As do you."

Steve stilled. "What?"

Amusement brightened her eyes at his response. "Did you not think that Thor would speak of his time on Midgard to us?"

Steve scratched the tip of his nose. "I… never thought about it. I suppose he would have."

"He did. He struggled with Loki's betrayal as he no doubt struggles with his death. Talking, as you know now, helps him cope."

"Does it help you?"

She froze at the question.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean—"

"To discomfit me?" A small smile curved her lips. "You did not. I paused, as I do not know if talking helps. In the past, few have offered to listen. And those that had, I did not want to inconvenience them."

"You wouldn't inconvenience me."

The smile vanished from Sif's face at his comment. She looked away, down at her tea, and Steve wanted to kick himself for being an idiot. Again. "That doesn't mean you have to talk," he said, trying to catch her eye again. "You can, if you want to. And it doesn't have to be to me." He shook his head, a rueful smile appearing on his face. "I mean, I'm not exactly doing the best job with it right now. But most of us here have experienced what you have. And we'll listen. Even Tony, but you might want to go to him only when you feel like being confused because half of the stuff he says I still don't get."

She smirked then. "Yes. Thor said something similar." Her eyes found his. Sorrow still shaded her gaze, but softer now. She drew in a slow breath and released it, and Steve found himself doing the same. Then it caught in his throat as she smiled, a real one, full and beautiful and bright like the sun. "Thank you, Captain."

"Ste—" He cleared the squeak of a name from his throat and tried again. "Steve. Please."

Sif dipped her head in acknowledgement. "Steve. I thank you. For your offer and for the tea." She lifted her glass then and prepared to drink. Steve spied the bag still in the mug. Without thinking, he grabbed the mug, his fingers falling onto hers. Sif stilled, her eyes widening at his touch. Steve dropped his hand, lifted it again, rubbed it along the back of his head, and then pointed at the mug. "The bag," he said. "You have to take the bag out first."

"Oh."

Steve grabbed a spoon and held it out to her. Sif grasped the handle of the spoon, a sliver of space between her fingers and his, her gaze still upon him. After a moment, Steve released his grip. He watched as Sif dunked the spoon into her mug and retrieved the bag. He lifted the saucer with his own drying upon the china; she placed hers beside his and again lifted the mug. But before she drank, she quirked a brow at him, her eyes bright in question. His heartbeat kicked up at the sight. Nodding, not trusting his voice, he watched as she took her first sip. Sif closed her eyes as she pondered the taste and then she swallowed.

"Well?" he asked.

"Strange," she said, opening her eyes. "Yet soothing." She met his gaze then, and he saw the same gleam, the same glimmer of delight as before, and he wondered if she meant the tea or him.

Either, he thought, would be fine.

Sif eased off the stool then, the mug in her hands. "I think I may attempt sleep once more. It has been difficult since… since Hogun. But I feel this may help."

Steve stood as well. He tried not to let any disappointment show on his face, understanding her need to sleep and heal. "Well, if it does, I'm here every morning. The tea is too."

She smiled at that. "I know. That is what Tony said." She lingered long enough to catch his reaction, the hint of surprise in his eyes at the realization that Tony had told her to come and that she had come, that she had deliberately sought him out, and then she turned and walked away, savoring the aroma of the tea as she strode from the room.

Tomorrow, he would make sure to have breakfast to accompany her hopefully customary cup of morning tea.

Fin.


End file.
